


My Rhythm and Blues

by sunniskies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Recovery, major sweetness i'm telling you, sort of a songfic i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunniskies/pseuds/sunniskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry recovers from an eating disorder and Louis is there every step of the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Rhythm and Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I had some reservations about posting this, because I absolutely do not want to glamorize or romanticize EDs in any way. But, that's why this fic is about Harry's recovery, not his disorder. 
> 
> Also I know this song has been fic'ed a million times over, but it really is a great song, so no regrets :P
> 
> THIS IS SO SAPPY BTW

++

_You’re my end and my beginning_

 

Harry comes home on a Tuesday near the end of May, when the air is thick with heat and the smell of freshly cut grass. Louis throws open the front door before Anne’s even finished pulling up and his heart starts doing somersaults just under his breastbone.

And then Harry’s there, in his arms, body shaking hard as he half-laughs half-cries against Louis’ chest. Louis is vaguely aware of Anne laughing somewhere in the background but all he can focus on is the amazingly solid, full weight of Harry in between his arms.

He pulls back a little so that he can visualize Harry’s face, reaching up a thumb to brush away the happy tears shining on Harry’s cheeks. “I love you,” Louis breathes and kisses him then, pressing their lips together hard. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too,” Harry says shakily, smiling at Louis through his watery eyes. Louis kisses his dimples, wipes more tears away.

“You’re beautiful,” Louis says, looking at Harry levelly. A blush rises in Harry’s cheeks and he glances down.

“Different,” is all Harry exhales quietly, and Louis tips his face back up gently.

“Beautiful,” he repeats, and kisses Harry again.

Eventually Louis releases Harry long enough to greet Anne with a warm hug and invite her in for tea. She declines, citing the midday hour and the fact that she wants to make the drive to Cheshire before it gets dark. So Louis gathers Harry’s bags and brings them inside to give Anne and Harry some time to say goodbye in private. He can see them embracing tightly, Anne murmuring into Harry's ear, when he passes by the window.

“Wow, you actually cleaned. What happened?” Harry grins when he finally ambles inside, surveying their small flat that Louis had indeed straightened up earlier.

“Only back two minutes and already sassing me,” Louis tuts but can’t wipe the beaming smile off his face as he walks over to Harry, slips an arm around his waist. “Welcome home, babe.”

Harry leans his head so it knocks against Louis’, sighs. “Can’t believe it’s only been two months,” he murmurs. “Feels like forever.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Louis pulls his head back to look at him seriously. “More than two months worth.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, bites his lip. “‘M really tired from the drive, Lou. Mind if I have a bit of lie down?”

“Of course love,” Louis frowns a little, rubs his hand on Harry’s hip in comforting circles. He hesitates a moment, and then adds, “Did you eat lunch already?”

“Yeah, I had lunch at the center before we left,” Harry answers, and Louis breathes an internal sigh of relief at the calm honesty in his voice. “And then I had some almonds and an energy bar for my snack in the car.” 

“Good,” Louis affirms, still rubbing his hip. “You should go have your nap. I can help you unpack while you sleep.” 

Louis guides Harry to the bedroom with a hand pressed to the small of his back, struck by a sudden need to be touching Harry at all times now that he’s returned. Harry curls up under the covers and his eyes slip shut easily. Louis sits on the side of the bed and just watches him for a few minutes, smoothing some unruly curls back into place idly. Harry’s face is beautifully round again, cheeks flushed and full, such a wonderful far cry from the jutting cheekbones from only a few months ago. His hair is glossy and deep brown, curls spilling wildly onto the pillowcase as he sleeps peacefully with his pink mouth half open. Louis has never been more in love in his entire life, he thinks.

He unzips one of Harry’s suitcases and starts tucking his shirts into the dresser quietly, trying not to mess up Harry’s perfect folding. The t shirts are soft and smell like the vanilla body wash that Harry favors, and Louis has to restrain himself from burying his nose in the fabric like a teenager with a crush. Harry sleeps soundly, even as the sun begins to dip and the room darkens. He’s too beautiful to disturb though, so Louis just finishes unpacking and moves to the kitchen to get some sort of dinner thrown together.

Half an hour later, he’s managed to load two plates up with slices of (mostly) unburnt chicken, brown rice, cut up apples, and salad. On their rickety dining table Louis also arranges a few candles and dims the lights slightly, hoping to make their tiny kitchen seem a tad cozier. 

He traipses back to the bedroom to find Harry still curled up, dead asleep. “Harry,” he murmurs, petting his hair gently. “Darling, wake up.”

Harry groans groggily into his pillow, rubs his eyes. “Mmgh. Hm?”

Louis smiles, leans down to kiss his forehead. “Hey, sleepyhead. Dinner time.”

Harry yawns widely and rubs his eyes a little more. “Okay. How long did I sleep for?” 

“About three hours.”

“Ugh you should’ve woken me up,” Harry pouts. “Sorry I’m being boring on my first day back.”

“You’re fine, love,” Louis chuckles. “Just come eat, yeah?”

Harry nods, stretching for a bit before clambering out of bed. Louis, still vibrating with protectiveness, cups Harry’s elbow to walk him to the kitchen.

“Lou!” Harry exclaims when he walks in, spinning around with wide eyes. “What’s all this?”

“Had to have a proper welcome home dinner for you, didn’t I?” Louis leads Harry to a chair.

“Did you cook?” Harry says in awe, eyeing the plate in front of him. “It’s not even burnt.”

“I resent that,” Louis retorts, slipping into the chair across the table. “But, yeah. I sort of learned while you were gone? Had to keep myself busy somehow. I mean, it was this or knitting.”

Harry barks out a laugh, gazes fondly at Louis. The flickering candlelight emphasizes the hollows of Harry's dimples and the deep green of his eyes, and Louis can't look away. “Thanks,” Harry murmurs seriously, clearly talking about a lot more than the chicken.

Louis reaches out and covers Harry’s hand on the table with his own. “I’m going to take care of you, ok?” he replies gently. “We’re in this together.”

“You can’t make me cry before I’ve even started eating!” Harry moans, a tear slipping out of his eye but his smile wide anyway. “When did you get so sappy, Lou?” 

Louis leans forward, brushes the wetness off with his thumbs. “Always been. But you might want to try the food before you go complimenting me on it.”

Harry spears a piece of chicken, takes an exaggerated bite. He tilts his head to the side as he chews, tapping his finger against his chin thoughtfully. “At least a solid two,” he decides finally.

Louis kicks him a little under the table. “Hey! I slaved over that for you,” he protests and Harry cackles gleefully.

“Just kidding, just kidding. It’s lovely, Lou. Best meal ever.”

It occurs to Louis that he’s seen Harry laugh more in the past few minutes than the past few months and it makes warmth rise in his chest so rapidly he feels a little short of breath. Because Harry’s back, really back, eating dinner with him and his fingers are warm underneath Louis’ and Louis wants to bottle up this moment and store it somewhere he can never lose it.

 

++

_Love your curves and all your edges_

 

When Louis wakes up the next morning, Harry isn't in bed next to him anymore. He knows before even opening his eyes because he never felt so warm as he did when he fell asleep last night, Harry's head pillowed on his chest and their fingers clasped together. The coldness next to him simultaneously reminds him of all that he’d missed and all that he has back.

He groans, stretches his limbs out and blinks his eyes open. He’d forgotten what an earlier riser Harry usually is, which would explain the empty bed. Before, Harry would wake up not long after sunrise and go for a long run before his first classes, and Louis hopes with a sinking heart that Harry isn’t off doing the same now. 

Once he clears the sleep from his eyes and sits up in bed, he realizes Harry’s not gone at all. Instead, he’s standing with his back to Louis in front of their full length mirror and shirtless. From the bed Louis can see that Harry has his arms wrapped around himself, fingers pinching his sides. 

“Harry?” Louis calls gently, climbing hastily out of bed. Harry jumps and spins around, and as Louis pushes his glasses on, he can already read the pained look contorting Harry’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles, turning back to the mirror. He’s pushing against the sides of his torso with his palms, and Louis strides over, blocking the mirror and taking his hands away to hold them in his own. 

“Harry, love,” he frowns, brings the back of his hand up to kiss the skin there. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

“I just,” Harry huffs out a frustrated breath, relaxing an inch when Louis tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “None of my clothes fit. I didn’t realize because I’ve just been in stretchy clothes, sweatpants and stuff, but I was trying on my jeans and I can’t even button them Lou,” Harry rambles, voice wavering near the end. He gestures downward to the jeans that he’s got on, which are stretched tight against his thighs and unbuttoned at the top. 

Louis takes a second before answering, picking over words in his head carefully. It’s true that Harry’s put on what’s probably a good two stone, his hips are full and a little puffy over the top of his jeans, the sides of his torso rounded out. And Louis has also never thought he looked more perfect.

“Guess we’re going shopping, then,” Louis says lightly, pulling Harry into a hug and hooking his chin on his shoulder. “Been meaning to drop by Topman.”

“I’m huge,” Harry breathes, and Louis pulls back at that, cups his face between his hands. 

“You’re beautiful, Harry. You’re lovely and wonderful and getting healthy and I couldn’t be prouder of you,” Louis says, and kisses him firmly. “You’re absolutely beautiful and whether an old pair of jeans fits has nothing to do with that.”

Harry sniffles, and Louis presses his lips to his cheeks, kissing his cheekbones. “Yeah,” Harry whispers, leaning his forehead to rest against Louis’ and closing his eyes. “I’m getting healthy. I’m ok.”

“You’re fine, darling,” Louis affirms, and he aches with how much he wishes he could jump inside Harry’s skin and take away all the dark things inside. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Thanks,” Harry says quietly, leaning down to kiss Louis again. “Sorry ‘m still kind of a mess.” 

“Please don’t apologize, babe,” Louis frowns, playing with a curl at the base of Harry’s neck. “Like I said, we’re in this together. No one expects it all to go away overnight.” 

“Thanks,” Harry repeats and Louis hugs him tightly. 

“Why don’t you get out of those jeans and I’ll go make us some tea and breakfast, alright?” 

“Sounds good,” Harry nods. Louis kisses his forehead quickly and shuffles off to the kitchen so Harry can have some time to get out of the jeans without getting embarrassed.

When Louis returns to the bedroom a few minutes later with two bowls of cereal and a plate of fruit balanced rather precariously in his arms, he finds Harry sitting on the bed dressed in a loose fitting flannel and pair of track pants.

Louis presses his lips to his hair briefly and hands him a bowl, climbing onto the bed next to him. "Better?" he looks seriously at Harry until he meets his gaze.

"Better," Harry nods, spooning out some cereal. He scoots the laptop he's got open over so Louis can see. "I was thinking, like, I've been wanting to change my wardrobe for ages? So this could be good." 

"I totally agree," Louis nods around a mouthful of Lucky Charms. With a free hand he clicks through some of the clothing websites Harry's got open, full of modern, slightly edgy styles that are in complete contrast to his former preppy blazers and chinos. "You'd look great in this," Louis hums. He pushes the laptop away so he can raise an arm for Harry to come snuggle under.

Harry curls up against him while cradling his bowl in his lap, head resting against Louis chest. Louis rubs his shoulder idly and if it means he has to eat his cereal awkwardly one handed, he doesn't mind. "Harry 2.0," Harry announces, crunching his frosted shredded wheat loudly.

"Love him already," Louis kisses the top of Harry's head.

"Hey you're going to get milk in my hair!" Harry protests, ducking his head. Louis rubs his face deeper in Harry's hair in retaliation, until the other boy is giggling and slapping him away.

"Can't stand you," Harry moans, grinning up at Louis with huge dimples.

"Me neither," Louis pinches his cheeks and Harry squaks indignantly. “Hurry up and finish eating so we can go spend too much money on clothes.”

It doesn’t take a genius to see that Harry’s nervous as they approach the mall, even if doesn’t say as much. His leg won’t stop jiggling against the floor of the car and he keeps twisting his fingers together in his lap, until Louis reaches across the console and wraps one of Harry’s hands in his own. He rubs his thumb across Harry’s knuckles comfortingly while rambling mindlessly about the latest episode of Gogglebox. It’s the best way Louis know how to calm him down, with small touches and the even sound of his voice. Just reminding Harry that’s he’s here and not going anywhere, that there’s no reason to worry. 

His efforts seem to work, because by the time they’ve parked and are walking into Topman with their hands still twined together, Harry’s smiling and talking again. The store is huge and cool, a thankful change to the thick heat outside. Harry’s eyes start to sparkle the moment they enter, Louis knows he’s always loved shopping and it’s been a been a while since he’s been able to. 

Harry drags him straight to the racks of button-downs and starts searching through them eagerly. He starts pulling interesting prints of black and white polka dots and multicolored plaid, draping them over his arm. Louis watches him with a smile twisting the corners of his lips--Harry looks as excited as a toddler on Christmas morning. 

“Oh,” Harry says suddenly, halting his frenzy abruptly and looking over to Louis. Louis moves in closer on instinct, placing a hand at the small of Harry’s back. “I guess I should check the size,” Harry says slowly, glancing down at the huge pile of shirts on his arm that he’d amassed.

“Why don’t I do that?” Louis suggests, hauling Harry’s shirts into his own arms before he can protest. “You go snag a dressing room and I’ll make sure these will be alright for you.” 

Harry shifts his weight, hesitating. “I can’t avoid looking forever…” he trails off quietly, chewing on his bottom lip hard.

Due to the huge pile of clothes in his arms, Louis can’t reach out to touch Harry, but he scoots in closer so that his voice is just a low murmur, not audible to anyone but them. “You can look when you’re ready, babe. For now, let’s just have fun finding your new style alright? I’m gonna try on some things too.”

“Okay,” Harry exhales, releases his lip from between his teeth. “Okay, yeah. I’ll get you a room too then.”

“Perfect!” Louis declares, and shoos Harry off before he can change his mind. Harry’s picked quite an eclectic mix of clothing, everything from wild tribal prints to patterned hearts to vintage band t-shirts. Louis goes through the pile carefully, peeking at the tags and switching out sizes for the shirts that he thinks might be too small. He figures Harry’s up about one or two sizes from where he was before he started losing weight, and even though he’s happy because he thinks Harry looks healthier than ever, he knows Harry’s most likely not ready for that information yet.

“Honey where are youuuu?” Louis calls in an exaggerated syrupy voice once he makes it over to the fitting rooms, ignoring the annoyed look the modelesque attendant throws him.  Harry throws up on a door near the end, already rolling his eyes.

“Do you always have to make a scene?” he grumbles, and Louis elbows past him to dump the pile of clothes onto a bench in the room rather unceremoniously.

“Always, love,” Louis smirks, kissing Harry’s cheek. Harry makes a face but turns his head to give Louis a proper kiss on the lips anyway. “Alright, let’s not get kicked out for snogging before we’ve bought anything, you minx,” Louis says teasingly when Harry pouts as he pulls away. He taps the tip of Harry’s nose with a finger. “You have, like, five thousand shirts to try on. And I have a pink onesie that’s calling my name.”

Harry groans when he sees the hot pink onesie Louis is holding up proudly. “You’re not buying that. I’ll move out.”

“But then who would make your tea, Harold? I think this just might be my new favorite outfit.”

Harry answers by rolling his eyes again and shutting the fitting room door firmly. “I need a new boyfriend,” he mutters on the other side and Louis laughs. 

“I heard that!”

“Good.”

“And people say I'm the dramatic one. I expect you to model everything for me by the way!” Louis calls as he slips into the adjacent room.

A few short minutes later, and Louis has managed to squeeze his not-negligible amount of bum into the fluffy onesie and it’s as ridiculous as he had hoped for. He’s really just trying to egg a laugh out of Harry but then again, the thing is surprisingly comfortable. 

He steps out and knocks on Harry’s door lightly. “Love? Can I see what you’ve got on?”

Harry doesn’t answer but after a beat, the door opens slowly. Louis sucks in a breath because _wow_ , Harry looks good, really good. He’s got on a pair of black skinnies that hug his calves perfectly, and a loose grey t-shirt with a black and white checkered button down shirt hanging open over it. He's even got a silky scarf twisted around his curls in some complicated way and he could easily pass for a young musician playing all the coolest bar scenes in London.

Louis gapes for little longer before snapping back to reality. Harry’s fussing with his hair nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “What d’you think?” he asks earnestly, eyes glued to Louis’ face for a reaction.

“You look incredible,” Louis replies honestly, motioning for Harry to do a little circle. Harry spins slowly, still looking unsure. “Seriously. You look so great. But the more important thing is, how do you feel?”

Harry turns to face the mirror, tugs on the hem of his shirt. “I feel...different. But good. I think? Like a kind of different I like.”

“You should,” Louis nods firmly, moves forward so he can wrap his arms around Harry. “You’re wonderful.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of complimenting me?” Harry asks into the spot on Louis’ shoulder where he’s got his face buried, but Louis gets what he’s really saying in not so many words.

He lifts a hand to start running his hands through the back of Harry’s hair, still holding him close. He doesn’t give a damn where they are, he’ll cuddle his boyfriend any time he wants.  “I’m not just making stuff up Harry, and I don’t just say things to make you feel good, although I hope it does. You really are beautiful and incredible and so lovely and I’m going to keep telling you until you realize it’s the truth.”

“I love you,” Harry mumbles quietly. “And,” he pulls back his face, dimples starting to make a reappearance, “this onesie is incredible.”

“I try,” Louis grins, holding his pink fuzzy arms out proudly. “I mean, if it gets you to snuggle me like that, I may have to buy it.”

“Ridiculous,” Harry beams, shaking his head so curls flop in his face. “Now get out, I have to finish trying on my 'five thousand' shirts.” 

Harry pushes him out of the room and swings the door shut, and Louis takes a seat on a small chair that’s in the hallway, crossing a onesie covered leg over his knee. He spots the attendant eyeing him, so he gives a cheerful wave, which makes the guy scowl and turn away. Louis laughs a little to himself.

And even though the chair starts to get uncomfortable and he sort of wants a tea, Louis stays and watches Harry try on every new outfit, complimenting him profusely on each one. Harry gains confidence as he keeps trying on the clothes, smile widening and his posture losing its stiffness. And that, for Louis, is worth all the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the world.

 

++

_Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too_

 

Louis’ summer classes start in the middle of June, and he’s a bit loathe to go back with how much he’s been enjoying spending all day with Harry. They’ve spent almost every second together since Harry’s gotten back, sleeping in late in the mornings and cooking breakfast together in their pyjamas. They spend their days doing little things, like walking to the nearby park hand in hand and watching the kids play in the sunshine, or having classic film marathons cuddled up on the couch. Harry goes to therapy twice a week and Louis comes to one of the sessions usually as well, because Harry's therapist asserts it’s important that they go through recovery together. Harry doesn’t start classes until fall which Louis is secretly glad about, wanting Harry to have as much time as possible for himself before he’s faced with all the pressures that university brings again.

He worries about Harry all the time, but tries not to show it too much for Harry’s sake. It’s definitely better than it was before Harry went into treatment--back then Harry was so secretive and dishonest that every day both of them were on constant eggshells and Louis felt absolutely powerless to help. Now Harry’s gotten a lot better, making an effort to tell Louis when he's having an off day or when he needs a hug. He’s not completely healed but he’s getting there, and each day that Louis watches him grow stronger physically and emotionally, he feels like his heart doubles in size as well. 

The week that Louis starts classes is not a good week. It’s grey and awful outside on that Monday morning, a thunderstorm already brewing, and he oversleeps too, rushing into his 9:00 class sweating and almost ten minutes late. The rest of the week isn’t much better, he discovers that he possibly hates microeconomics even more than statistics, and his class schedule is packed back-to-back, meaning that he doesn't get to see Harry until after five.

Harry seems withdrawn as well, compounding Louis’ worries. He insists he’s fine, wakes up early enough to make Louis a cup of tea and bowl of cereal before he rushes off, but Louis doesn't miss the way his eyes have dimmed a little. He does as much as he can for Harry, holds him close and pets his hair in the evenings, reminds him that he can always tell him anything, but he doesn’t open up. By the next week Louis has decided to bring it up at their therapy appointment that week, because Harry is still too quiet and listless. 

Louis drops his bookbag onto the floor heavily and with a loud groan. This day is a strong contender for worst Monday ever he thinks, as he rubs his aching shoulder. Not only had he had a pop “quiz” in European Political History that was over fifty questions long, he’d also managed to spill a half full bottle of Gatorade over his new jeans while eating lunch, and had gotten a terrible mark on an essay. He’d been so busy that he hadn’t had a chance to text Harry all day like he usually does, and as he digs his phone out now, his stomach plummets when he sees that he’s got two missed calls and seven unread texts from Harry.

He scans them quickly as he strides down the hall in search of his boyfriend, heart pounding.

 **Harry:** Have a good day Lou xx

 **Harry:** Did you get the note I left? :P

 **Harry:** Hope microecon wasn’t too terrible x

 **Harry:** What time do you think you’ll be in tonight?

 **Harry:** Sorry, I shouldn't have called, I know you’re in class

 **Harry:** I miss you, sometimes x

 **Harry:** Today’s not a good day

“Harry?” Louis calls loudly as he practically races toward their bedroom, the wavering in his voice giving away his nerves. “Haz, are you here?”

The tightness in his chest spikes when he pushes open their bedroom door and is met with nothing besides their unmade bed and Louis’ messy piles of clothes. He jogs to their attached bathroom as he mind starts whirling with all sorts of horrible ideas about what’s happened to Harry, and he flings the door open a little wildly, nearly collapsing with relief when he finds Harry there.

His initial relief sharply turns into concern however, when takes in the scene in front of him. Harry’s curled up on the floor with his head on the lid of the toilet, and as he turns to look at Louis, Louis can see that his eyes are bloodshot and puffy, cheeks coated in tears.

Louis drops down next to Harry and immediately pulls him tightly up against his chest, letting Harry fit his head into his favorite spot in the crook of Louis’ neck. He brings his hands up to start rubbing up and down Harry’s back slowly and rhythmically, tries to slow his own breathing to a more normal pace so that Harry can match it.

Instead, Harry starts sobbing quietly into his shoulder and Louis actually feels a physical stab in his chest that he’s pretty sure is his heart breaking. Harry’s shaking hard against him, sobs muffled in Louis’ jumper, and Louis brings one his hands up to scratch lightly at Harry’s scalp, starts making soothing noises in his ear. 

“Shhh, darling, you’re alright, I’m here,” he coos softly, shifting Harry so that he’s properly in his lap now, even if he’s slightly too big for it. “You’re fine sweetheart, it’s all alright, I’m right here Harry, just let it out.” 

He keeps his voice level and quiet just the way he knows Harry needs, focuses on the even circles he’s rubbing on his back, just trying to ground him and remind him that he’s here and that he’s taken care of. “Try and take some breaths for me sweetheart, in and out, alright? You’re fine, I’m here, you’re okay.”

He feels Harry take a few shuddering breaths that still sound mostly like sobs, but Louis praises him warmly and rubs his back a little more firmly so that he’ll keep trying. It’s not the first time Louis has helped him through something like this, but it still breaks his heart every time. Eventually Harry calms down a little more and leans more heavily against Louis’ chest, sniffling. 

“Love,” Louis murmurs, still gently running his fingers through Harry’s hair, his other hand resting in the middle of his back. “Oh, sweetheart. Can you tell me what happened? Are you sick?” 

Harry shakes his head no, pulls back a little to look up at Louis through his puffy eyes. “Can we go to the bedroom?” he whispers, voice shot.

It’s a testament to how vulnerable Harry looks that joking about him wanting to get to the bedroom doesn't even cross Louis' mind. “Of course, darling,” is all he says, and helps Harry up gently, running his eyes quickly over his body to double check that Harry’s not physically hurt at all. 

Louis makes a little nest for Harry on the bed out of all their pillows, arranging them against the headboard and helping Harry settle down into them. He wants to get Harry into more comfortable clothes but he looks so exhausted, flopping back against the pillows heavily, that it’s all Louis can do just to grab a box of tissues and crawl onto the bed next to him.

He sits cross legged in front of Harry so that he can visualize his face. He’s still pale and there are tears on his face so Louis grabs a tissue and wipes his cheeks carefully, pressing his lips to his temple for a moment afterward. He tucks one of Harry’s curls behind his ear, and he can feel his own face pulling into a concerned frown.

“Do you think you can tell me what’s going on?” Louis asks quietly, not wanting to push at all. He picks up one of Harry’s hands and encases it in his own.

Harry plucks a tissue out of the box next to him and uses it to clean himself up a little more. “Sorry,” he finally croaks out, looking up at Louis through wet eyelashes. “‘M a mess.”

“Please don’t put yourself down, babe,” Louis reminds him, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “You’re allowed to be upset. I’m just worried because I don’t know what’s going on.”

Harry sighs at that, turns his glance downward to the tissues in his lap. “It’s just been a really shit week and today everything was awful.”

“It has been a rather shit week,” Louis agrees, caressing Harry’s knuckles. “Can you tell me why, though?”

“I..,” Harry’s voice starts to quiver with more tears, and Louis reaches forward to stroke his hair again in the hopes of calming him down. “I haven’t been doing very well.”

Louis makes a sad noise at that but doesn’t interrupt as Harry gains momentum, just keeps playing with his hair gently. 

“I’ve been restricting again,” Harry admits, barely audibly. “Not much, but enough. I’ve been skipping lunch and afternoon snack. I dunno why, it started when you went back to class and I guess I wasn’t used to being alone all day. And then today, I didn’t eat anything at all and I felt terrible about it and so I had two peanut butter sandwiches to make up for it, but then I felt so disgusting and I just wanted to purge so bad, so bad. I didn’t Louis, I promise I didn’t, I don’t want to be sick anymore I really do want to get better I promise I do, I’m so sorry.” Harry’s crying again now, his words rambling together near the the end. 

Louis blinks away the tears that he feels prickling at the corners of his eyes, knowing that’s not what Harry needs right now. Instead he pulls his boyfriend back up against him, holds him so tightly that he’s almost afraid he’s going to crush him.

“I’m so glad you’re being honest Harry, you’re going to be alright ok? This is part of recovery, it’s just a bad week, it doesn’t discount how far you’ve come, sweetheart. We’re going to get through this. You’re so brave and I’m so ridiculously proud of you and I love you so so so much,” he soothes, squeezing Harry tight. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulls back, wipes away a few stray tears on Harry’s cheeks. “How about we call the clinic tomorrow and have your appointment moved up?” he suggests gently, and sighs internally with relief when Harry nods in agreement. 

Harry lays back down against the pillows, curls inward on himself and blinks up at Louis. “Lou?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Will you play me something?”

“Of course,” Louis assures, leans down to kiss Harry. “Let me just get my guitar. And maybe some tea for us as well. And I know you might not be up to eating all of it, but can I bring you some dinner?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “I want to try.” 

Louis kisses him another time and slips off the bed to go gather supplies. In the kitchen he quickly heats up two plates of leftover pasta and vegetables, and boils some water for tea. Once he’s got everything prepared he brings it all back to the bedroom, handing Harry the warm plate and mug carefully. He grabs his guitar from the corner and settles back down on the bed.

“What should I play, love?” he asks, watching as Harry blanches at the food but puts some pasta in his mouth anyway.

“Anything,” Harry shrugs, taking another bite. “Just like hearing you sing, you know.”

Louis considers for a moment, tapping his fingers against the strings absently. “Do you remember what I played you, the night before you left for treatment?” he finally asks, looking up at Harry.

“You played me ‘All of Me’,” Harry answers quietly. “You said it was about us.” 

“It is,” Louis nods, and leans over his guitar to start playing, the strings familiar and easy beneath his fingers. He sings softly into the quiet of their bedroom, dedicating each note to Harry as he strums it out. When he reaches the chorus his voice rises and gains timbre, a little pitchy he thinks, but he means every word.

_‘Cause all of me_

_Loves all of you_

_Love your curves and all your edges_

_All your perfect imperfections_

_Give your all to me_

_I’ll give my all to you_

_You’re my end and my beginning_

_Even when I lose I’m winning_

_‘Cause I give you all of me_

_And you give me all of you_

He closes his eyes as he recites the words from memory, his chest crackling with emotion as he remembers the starlight night when he last sang this song, remembers the broken boy who’s becoming so much more whole now.  

_How many time do I have to tell you_

_Even when you’re crying in you’re beautiful too_

_The world is beating you down, I’m around through every mood_

_You’re my downfall, you’re my muse_

_My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues_

_I can’t stop singing, it’s ringing, in my head for you_

When he opens his eyes Harry’s smiling even as his eyes swim, gazing at Louis like he couldn’t be more in love. And Louis thinks that maybe they can’t.

_‘Cause I give you all of me_

_And you give me all of you_

_I give you all of me_

_And you give me all of you_

He finishes, hastily swiping a hand under his eyes. It’s Harry who crawls across the bed toward him this time, knocks his forehead against Louis’.

“You have all of me,” Harry whispers, breath hot on Louis’ cheeks. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Always,” Louis says, tips Harry’s face up to kiss him long and hard. “I love you too.”

 

++

_My head’s under water but I’m breathing fine_

 

The dingy pub is overcrowded, loud, and dirty, and Louis couldn’t be happier. He’s half hanging off the edge of a booth with Harry pressed up tight against his side, Niall and Zayn squeezed on the other side of Harry. Across the table are Liam, Sophia, and Perrie, and it’s possibly the best reunion in ages. Harry’s fingers are linked with his under the table, and Louis strokes his thumb across his knuckles absentmindedly while they all talk and laugh wildly.

They’d all decided to have this long-overdue reunion when fall classes started and they realized their little group hadn’t hung out together in ages. Last year, as Harry became more and more entrenched in his disorder, he’d gradually stopped coming out with Louis, preferring to stay at home. Louis still hung out with his best mate Zayn, but he didn’t feel much like going out either, as his concern over Harry grew and life become that much harder to manage.

So that’s why it’s so exhilarating now, that Louis can hear Harry’s loud guffaws ringing out next to him as they all share pints and Niall recounts his latest dating fiasco. Normally Louis would be loudly adding to the conversation but he’s happy just to soak it all in now, the music filling the smoky air, the solid weight of Harry next to him, the sound of all his friend’s voices jumbling together loud and familiar.

“So anyway, that’s why I’m never taking a girl paint balling again,” Niall finishes, taking a gulp of his beer, and everyone laughs again. 

“Niall, mate, why would you _ever_ think that paint balling is a good first date idea?” Liam asks incredulously, shaking his head.

“They do say shared experience is the best way to develop a relationship,” Perrie declares wisely and Zayn snorts.

“Does that mean we’re going paint balling babe?” Zayn smirks, and Perrie glares at him across the table.

“Don’t count on it. Plus, I can never even get you out of the house, it’s a miracle I got you out tonight,” Perrie grumbles, but there’s nothing but adoration sparkling in her eyes. 

“Alright no more bickering like a married couple,” Louis interrupts. “Do we have to separate you two again?”

“Oh come off it,” Niall laughs. “If there was ever a married couple, it’s you and young Haz here.” 

“We’re perfectly independent,” Harry defends, spinning the ridiculously pink cocktail that is his favorite drink on the table idly. “You’re just jealous,” he dimples, and turns to plant a wet kiss on Louis’ cheek for proof.

Louis smiles too and turns so he can give Harry a proper kiss, squeezing their finger together under the table. There’s a chorus of groans from Niall, Liam, and Zayn, while Perrie and Sophia make quiet “awww” sounds. Louis is pleased to see a happy flush rising in Harry’s cheeks when he pulls away--Louis' favorite, just snogged look.

“Adorable,” Sophia decides, turning to Liam. “Why don’t you kiss me like that?”

“Later,” Liam promises, and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. They all make loud gagging noises until he stops.

“Nah, you’re properly ‘fat and happy’ ‘n all that,” Niall decides, looking over fondly at Harry and Louis. “Look at Haz, gettin’ all soft on the edges.”

Time shudders to a stop for Louis. He feels Harry's entire body lock up tight next to him, his fingers dropping from his glass and falling flat on the table.

“You are looking extra healthy these day,” Liam adds, in what he probably means to be a nice way. “A little extra weight does you good.”

Louis distantly feels his fingers curling into a fist under the table and he instinctively throws an arm around Harry’s shoulder pulling him even closer to him. Harry’s stiff like he’s holding his breath and it’s all Louis can do not to punch someone.

“Would you shut the--” Louis starts to growl between gritted teeth, but Harry interrupts him before he can finish.

“Louis likes his men curvy,” Harry jokes lightly, and when Louis turns to look at Harry, he sees a tentative smile curling on his lips. “Who am I to disappoint?”

Everyone at the table laughs and then the conversation moves on, Perrie starting to ramble about some concert she wants everyone to go to. Louis isn't paying any attention, though, he buries his fingers in the back of neck and works on getting the tension to drop out of Harry's shoulders, who's still stiff against him. Louis subtly turns to Harry, kisses his temple. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs quietly in his ear, and Harry hums with contentment. 

“Thanks. I’m ok,” Harry assures, and Louis relaxes the tiniest bit. He lowers his hand to his shoulder, massages a little, working the kinks. 

"We can talk about it if you need to," Louis presses, watching Harry intently, trying to gauge his thoughts.

Harry fiddles with a napkin on the table absently, tearing at the corners. "Nah, I think I'm good?" he whispers back, frowning as he thinks. "Like, I wasn't expecting it. But it's ok," Harry shrugs.

“Alright lovebirds, enough whispering,” Perrie interrupts, and Louis snaps back to attention to find everyone looking at them expectantly. “We’re ordering another round and everyone’s going to get properly drunk.”

 “Sounds like my kind of night!” Niall exclaims happily and everyone laughs. 

They all get incredibly, spectacularly wasted, and it's wonderful. Niall buys them all shots and they knock them back quickly, Harry giggling tipsily into Louis' neck afterward. Everything feels hazy and happy and the table's laughter gets more raucous as the night progresses. After finishing another cocktail, Harry pulls Louis to the dance floor, face flushed and bright from the alcohol. Louis follows him easily and lets Harry tug him to a corner of the dance floor. His emerald eyes are darker under the dim blue lighting of club, and as he loops his arms around Louis' shoulders, a shiver runs down Louis' spine.

"Dance with me?" Harry asks into Louis' ear, and his voice is thick, deep. That's all the invitation Louis needs to slide his hands onto Harry's hips, pulling him closer until they're flush against each other. They start to sway together naturally, Louis rounding his hips in time to the beat of the music pulsing around them. Harry looks like he's coming undone, curls fanning out wildly around his slightly sweaty face, eyes deep green and unreadable in the low light. Louis curls his fingers, slipping them underneath the hem of Harry's shirt so that he can brush against the soft skin there.

"Louis," Harry breathes, straight into his ear. Louis can hear him taking short, halted breaths, almost panting.

"Darling," Louis echoes, pushing his mouth against Harry's messily. A barely audible moan from Harry sends another wave a hot goosebumps running up his spine.

They kiss and dance for a while, Louis completely oblivious to the club around him as Harry pushes his tongue into Louis mouth and licks hotly. Their hips are grinding together, Louis still grasping firmly to Harry and Harry with his arms linked around Louis' neck. Louis can feel Harry half-hard through his jeans from where he's pressed against his thigh, and Louis isn't far behind. 

"Can ask you something?" Harry asks, breaking the kiss suddenly.

"Anything, love," Louis assures, frowning.

"Do you…do you still find me attractive? Like, physically. Now that my body's changed so much?" Harry asks, so quietly that Louis has to lean in to hear.

"Harry," Louis reaches up to touch his hair for a moment, and then on second thought, grabs his hand, pulling him through the club until they're outside in the cool and quiet night. Somehow, Harry looks more vulnerable out here, the moonlight turning his pale skin silver.

"Harry, I am so, so, incredibly attracted to you, you have no idea," Louis cups Harry's faces so that he's looking directly at him. "Or maybe you have some idea," he adds, glancing down at his own jeans.

Harry rubs a palm over his face, huffing in frustration. "I know. I'm sorry I ruined this, you were having fun, I'm stupid. I just feel like you can't possibly want me like this." 

"I do, I really do I promise you," Louis says earnestly, not breaking eye contact. "Don't apologize for what you feel, you're not stupid babe."

Harry gazes at him for a long moment, chewing his lip between his teeth and obviously thinking hard. There's no one on earth more beautiful than Harry, Louis' so sure of it. "In that case," Harry says slowly. "I think you should take me home and finish what we started."

There are some things that Louis doesn't need to be told twice.

 

++

_All of me loves all of you_

 

Sometimes realizations come over time and sometimes they hit all at once in an unannounced moment right in the middle of the day.

Louis realizes that everything will be alright for them when Harry spills an entire bowl of parmesan cheese in his lap. They're at the bowling alley, the sound of pins knocking over echoing around them, and they're taking a pizza break. Harry, being the giant klutz that he is, manages to spill all the shredded cheese everywhere almost immediately after Louis hands him the bowl, a large pool of it falling into his lap and all over the floor. Harry starts laughing as soon as it spills, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut. Louis breaks out laughing too, he's not sure what's so funny about the cheese littered all over Harry's dark jeans, but it  _is_. They laugh for a while, long enough that people from other lanes turn to stare at them, but Louis doesn't care. Harry's got pizza sauce on his chin and Louis thumbs it off, kissing him afterward. "You're adorable," Louis says, brushing his lips to the tip of Harry's nose. "You're so, so adorable."

Harry's flushed already from laughing so hard but he goes a little pinker, dimples popping into his cheeks. "Pretty cute yourself," Harry winks exaggeratedly and Louis laughs again.

"Whoever wins next round is cuter," Louis decides, standing up and dusting off his pants. "Think you can take me, Styles?" he wriggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry springs up and swats at him. "Please, I could beat you in my sleep," he grabs the bowling ball he's been using, bright purple with sparkles, and lines up for a shot.

"Don't be nervous," Louis calls. "I've only beaten you twice already."

Harry turns around to glare at him. "No distracting players while they're bowling." Louis grins and mimes zipping his mouth shut, holding his hands up in surrender. Harry winds up and gives a huge swing, sending the ball bouncing haphazardly down the lane. It only hits two pins but Harry whoops loudly like he's just gotten a strike. "Yesss!" he pumps his arm in the air, beaming over at Louis.

Louis can't pretend to be anything but totally, completely, hopelessly head over heels in love with the ridiculous boy smiling at him. "Perfect," he laughs, coming over to Harry and wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. "Are you sure you aren't secretly a world famous bowling champion?"

"I am, actually," Harry replies, twisting around and pecking Louis' lips. "Didn't you know?"

"Should've guessed. Always knew you were too good for me," Louis murmurs against his mouth, wondering if they're going to get thrown out of the bowling alley for PDA. 

"No, that's you," Harry says seriously, looking down at Louis with shining green eyes. 

"Let's call it a tie," Louis decides, and tucks a curl behind Harry's ear gently. "Let's go finish our pizza and then I want to beat my adorable boyfriend at pinball."

"In your dreams," Harry beams, and Louis slips his fingers into his, interlacing them. He guides them back to their chairs, where they sit down and dig back into the slices of pizza they'd temporarily abandoned. They laugh around mouthfuls of sticky cheese and Harry manages to get sauce all over his face again. Louis kisses it off slowly, Harry beaming the whole time, and yeah, everything is going to be just fine.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I mostly wrote this for myself, but I hope you liked it :) 
> 
> I was also hoping that this can be a reminder to everyone who's struggled with eating/body issues that we all deserve someone as sweet as Louis, even if it's only imaginary. <3 
> 
> My [tumblr](http://blushinghaz.tumblr.com)


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